Just another star among the growing constellation of milblogs that bring you reports of life in a warzone from the guys in the middle of it.

Before now poetry has taken notice Of wars, and what are wars but politics Transformed from chronic to acute and bloody?
from "Build Soil"Robert Frost

Monday, February 04, 2008

On the Road Again

I learned some things the last time I was in Iraq- I learned of courage, and brotherhood. I learned that there is no glory in war- there are few heroes, and many decent, ordinary men too stubborn to realize that their actions are irrational, dangerous, and, well… heroic. I learned of emotional agony and of empathy; I also learned how to be callous. I learned how to tell someone with your eyes that you would kill him if he didn’t cave. I lost some timidity, and gained self-respect. The war did not make me a man- rather; I learned through the war some essential elements of manhood.

There must be a name for this sickness, for this consuming malady that compels some few of us back into the conflict, back into the desert. It feels like a mild form of addiction- there’s the drive to get more of it, and the rush, and the memories. It comes without the wasting, without the needle marks (that’s a lie, actually- I have a wicked bruise in my elbow right now from blood tests), but it brings its own scars, flashbacks, and dementia. There’s something very existential about it- I am forever the sum of my experiences, after all, and time spent in austere environs, separated from my comfortable life and often in the heat of combat certainly qualifies as life experience.

I’m happy to be on my way back again. I thought travel into and out of Iraq was bad when I went with the Army… I think it might actually be worse as a civilian. I guess we’ll see if they completely lose me on the trip back, like they lost my entire company in Kuwait. See, the funny thing about that is that the units in Kuwait control travel for the theater, and I never quite understood how they could not know we were leaving. But I digress.

It didn’t take me long to pack for this trip; the hardest part was selecting some civilian clothes that would work well in Iraq. I dug my tactical gear from my deployment out of the boxes I had it stowed in- everything was just as I had remembered. My tan Nomex gloves were still crusted with my sweat and Iraqi dirt. My little Timex watch was still running still set to Iraq time. That watch has to embody the best$12 I ever spent. I packed all the tactical gear into my carryon backpack for the flight; forgetting to remove my Gerber from its holster when I threw that into my backpack. At the airport, it took TSA 3 times through the scanner to decide there was something in my bag that didn’t belong. The screener acted as though my bag was radioactive. She gingerly removed books and power cords, and struggled to comprehend the fastening straps on the butt pack that held the offending multitool. I offered to help, but I was sternly refused. When at last she uncovered the grey canvas cover, she stared at it as though it might explode- which it might, of course. Standing next to her, I wondered how many suicide bombers tried to trick their victims into detonating their bombs, and only martyred themselves because they stuck around to watch the fun. In her mind, the number must be in the dozens.I can’t wait to get back to Iraq, where I trust the competence of the people around me.

The trouble I had at the security checkpoint turned out to be for naught. My flight was delayed to the point that I would positively miss the connector to my flight across the Atlantic, so I rescheduled for the next flight out and called my girlfriend: “Hey babe… Want to say goodbye to me again?” I’m sure it’s a little cruel to shift someone so quickly between tears and laughter, but I needed a ride home.My bag went on without me to my final point of departure from the United States- hopefully it will make it to the Middle East along with me, or I might get to soak up more Kuwaiti sand than I really want to.

Once I get to Kuwait, I will likely be unable to update for some time. I’m told that the damaged cables the Mediterranean and Persian Gulf have brought internet access in the region to a virtual (heh heh) standstill. In the meantime, spread the word that Teflon Don is back in the suck and blogging again.

TD, glad to see you've returned to blogland; even if it means a trip to Iraq. I don't think your strange "addiction" is all that strange. I've watched it afflict my husband when he returned from Iraq in 2004. He still flirts with the idea of returning. I think it's because he believed he was a part of something important; something bigger than himself. He also believed it was a way to prove himself, in a strange way, especially since he was very accomplished in his career and life before he went to Iraq. My son, who's in Iraq, has the same reactions. No, I don't think the addiction is so strange; it's the reaction of committed people doing what they believe in. They want to keep doing it.

We are looking forward to your dispatches TD. You have my best wishes for a safe trip. And keep in mind what LT Nixon said. It appears from what I've been reading that it's a lot colder this winter than the last one. Take care.

We are looking forward to your dispatches TD. You have my best wishes for a safe trip. And keep in mind what LT Nixon said. It appears from what I've been reading that it's a lot colder this winter than the last one. Take care.

And, would you consider turning on the full feed so people who can't read white on black can read your blog on bloglines or google reader without having to copy it into a word processing program? Thank you.

Sorry, TD, but I had to share with you (all) some parts of the poem "Ulysses" by Alfred Lord Tennyson - Ulysses a.k.a. Odysseus experienced the same phenomenon as you and other warriors. It's a time-honored affliction. :)

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoy’d Greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when Thro’ scudding drifts the rainy Hyades 10 Vext the dim sea: I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honour’d of them all; 15 And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met;

Come, my friends, ’Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 60 Of all the western stars until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’ 65 We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

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